


Eden

by silentdescant



Series: Snapshots [11]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Comeplay, Coming Untouched, Creampie, Felching, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 04:11:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8235677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: “My ass is sore as hell,” Mitch replies. It’s the truth, and it doesn’t matter that he loves it, doesn’t matter that it makes his stomach twist with pleasure every time he remembers why he’s aching.





	

**Author's Note:**

> KINKtober Day 7: Creampie

Mitch’s legs fall open, stretched to each side of the bed without Scott holding them around his waist. He’s so breathless he can’t even think, not until Scott slips out of him and Mitch is left with only the familiar ache in his ass. He’s lightheaded and boneless, and it’s easy to let Scott gather his legs and push him over to the side to make room on the bed.

Mitch stays exactly where he lands, half on his side with his knees together, bent so Scott can spoon behind him, but Scott doesn’t move into the vacant space. Instead, he kneels on the bed and strokes his hand up and down Mitch’s thigh, his hand sliding easy over sweat-slick skin.

“Your ass,” Scott says, and Mitch isn’t sure how he’s going to end that sentence, or if he even plans to, because he trails off into an appreciative groan instead of speaking.

“My ass is sore as hell,” Mitch replies. It’s the truth, and it doesn’t matter that he loves it, doesn’t matter that it makes his stomach twist with pleasure every time he remembers why he’s aching.

Scott’s staring at his ass, slack-jawed, and he breathes, “Jesus Christ.”

“What?”

“Can you feel that?” Scott’s lips curl into a smug smile.

Mitch knows instantly what he’s staring at. He grabs his leg and lifts it higher, exposing his hole for Scott. “What,” he says, “the come dripping out of my ass?”

“Yeah,” Scott sighs. He’s transfixed.

It’s not the first time they’ve messed around bareback, but it is the first time Scott’s pumped him full of come. Mitch grins. “I can feel it leaking out of me,” he says. He lifts his chin, bites his lip, and Scott still won’t look away from his ass. “You fucked me open, fuckin’ destroyed me.”

“Yeah,” Scott says again. He slips down until he’s lying on his front, half off the bed now, and in one fluid move, he slides his hands beneath Mitch’s body and manhandles him so his legs are thrown over Scott’s shoulders, and his ass is right in Scott’s face.

“Oh!” Mitch cries out, surprised and helpless to resist as Scott licks his ass with the flat of his tongue.

“Tell me how it feels,” Scott demands before quickly ducking back down to kiss the exposed crease of Mitch’s thigh. His lips are gentle and light but it doesn’t tickle; Mitch is too sated after his orgasm, his body too exhausted to respond.

Groaning, Mitch covers his eyes with one hand so he can better focus on the sensations. “I feel… I feel your breath. Jesus, I feel your breath on me.”

“Keep talking.”

He bears down, just a little, just enough to let another dribble of come leak out of him. Scott moans as he watches from inches away.

“S’fucking hot,” Mitch says. “I can feel it… dripping— _fuck_ —I feel so—so used and—and sore… Like you’re still inside me…”

“You ache for me,” Scott whispers.

“I ache _from_ you, asshole,” Mitch mutters under his breath, but what Scott said is true too.

Scott follows another slow trickle of come with his tongue, leaving a wet trail in his wake. Mitch tosses his hands up above his head, searching for something to grab onto, and finally clenches his fists around two handfuls of pillow. His thighs shake when Scott pushes his tongue past the sore ring of muscle. He cries out wordlessly, blinking up at the ceiling. Then Scott seals his lips and sucks and Mitch nearly kicks him.

“Oh, Jesus, _fuck_!” Mitch shouts. His dick is throbbing, oversensitive and barely even hard, and his entire body quivers with misplaced tension. He feels at once like a spoonful of jello and as taut as a piano wire, and he can’t even close his mouth to speak. A stream of jibberish, wordless and incomprehensible, flows from his mouth and Scott responds by digging his fingers into Mitch’s thighs and moaning again, this time with his lips right against Mitch’s hole.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” Mitch chants, choking on his own breath. He wants to close his legs but can’t. He wants to gasp but can’t. He wants speak, to move, to come again, but—his cock leaks, weakly dripping come, without even being touched.

Then Scott brings his hand around to stroke him, and it’s like being electrocuted. Mitch’s hips leap and retreat—it’s too shocking, too fast, too light and too hard, too much sensation. Mitch paws at Scott’s hand, his fingers slipping against Scott’s wrist. His body can’t even settle on what it wants: more or less? Firmer strokes or softer, or nothing at all?

Mitch loses track of time, his internal clock taken over by the frantic rush of blood echoing in his head, but at some point Scott stops touching him, stops eating him out. At some point Scott gathers Mitch in his arms and pets him, soothes him, calmly brings him back to himself.

“I can’t wait to do that again,” Scott murmurs.

“Dunno if I can handle that again,” Mitch slurs. “Jesus.”

“All the more reason. I love making you incoherent and speechless. Especially when it involves this—” Scott slaps Mitch’s ass and squeezes, “hot little ass.”

Mitch sighs and wiggles his hips, rocking his ass against Scott’s hand. “Yeah, yeah, you like my ass, I get it.”

“Tastes good,” Scott says, “when you taste like me.”

 

 _fin_.


End file.
